them was increasing. He sprang about
excitedly, making short nervous leaps and twists, now toward one, now
toward the other, in painful indecision, not knowing his own mind,
desiring both and unable to choose, uttering quick sharp whines and
beginning to pant.

He sat down abruptly on his haunches, thrusting his nose upward, the
mouth opening and closing with jerking movements, each time opening
wider. These jerking movements were in unison with the recurrent spasms
that attacked the throat, each spasm severer and more intense than the
preceding one. And in accord with jerks and spasms the larynx began to
vibrate, at first silently, accompanied by the rush of air expelled from
the lungs, then sounding a low, deep note, the lowest in the register of
the human ear. All this was the nervous and muscular preliminary to
howling.

But just as the howl was on the verge of bursting from the full throat,
the wide-opened mouth was closed, the paroxysms ceased, and he looked
long and steadily at the retreating man. Suddenly Wolf turned his head,
and over his shoulder just as steadily regarded Walt. The appeal was
unanswered. Not a word nor a sign did the dog receive, no suggestion and
no clew as to what his conduct should be.

A glance ahead to where the old master was nearing the curve of the trail
excited him again. He sprang to his feet with a whine, and then, struck
by a new idea, turned his attention to Madge. Hitherto he had ignored
her, but now, both masters failing him, she alone was left. He went over
to her and snuggled his head in her lap, nudging her arm with his nose--an
old trick of his when begging for favors. He backed away from her and
began writhing and twisting playfully, curvetting and prancing, half
rearing and striking his fore paws to the earth, struggling with all his
body, from the wheedling eyes and flattening ears to the wagging tail, to
express the thought that was in him and that was denied him utterance.

This, too, he soon abandoned. He was depressed by the coldness of these
humans who had never been cold before. No response could he draw from
them, no help could he get. They did not consider him. They were as
dead.

He turned and silently gazed after the old master. Skiff Miller was
rounding the curve. In a moment he would be gone from view. Yet he
never turned his head, plodding straight onward, slowly and methodically,
as though possessed of no interest in what was occurring